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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23693515">A chance meeting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/4xLOL/pseuds/4xLOL'>4xLOL</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bully (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fanart, I have no idea what I'm doing, I'm Still Going Down With This Ship, Please Send Help, just why</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:49:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,004</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23693515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/4xLOL/pseuds/4xLOL</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Beatrice and Tom were high school sweethearts, but then life took them into completely different directions, Beatrice to a Ph.D. in microbiology and Tom to drugs and prison. 12 years later they finally meet again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tom Gurney/Beatrice Trudeau</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A chance meeting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>English isn't my first language, so feel free to correct anything that doesn't make sense (besides the whole goddamn premise).</p><p>This is currently standalone, but I might add a continuation later. Probably also a chapter about their teenage romance. Dunno yet.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Beatrice Trudeau had a horrible day. First, she accidentally contaminated a few samples back at the lab because of some faulty gloves – nothing major and certainly not her fault, but still something that will set her back for at least 3 days – and then the date she <em> finally </em> got on that stupid dating site her coworker made her sign up for never showed up. Or rather, showed up with another woman pretending not to notice her, probably just to rub it in. The final straw was the wallet she forgot in a taxi on the way here. Fortunately, the driver found it, but he won't be able to return it for at least a few hours. Something about an airport run. So now she was stranded on the other side of the city, in an unfamiliar neighborhood, with no money, <em> and </em> it was starting to rain. <em> Great. </em><br/><br/>"Bad day?"<br/><br/>Beatrice turned around, clutching her purse tight to her chest. Nothing good ever happened on the streets of Liberty City after dark, even in relatively nice neighborhoods like that. A shadow she didn't notice before was leaning on the wall in one of the dark spots between the streetlights that badly needed their light bulbs changed. The first thing she noticed illuminated by a faint cigarette glow were the words "THUG" and "FUCK" tattooed on the knuckles of the hand holding it. As its owner finished a drag from the smoke it moved away, revealing a familiar face. Older, skinnier, beaten up, <em> sadder, </em> she thought to herself, but familiar nonetheless.<br/><br/>"Tom?"<br/><br/>Unlike Beatrice, Tom Gurney actually had a pretty good day. Davis found a whole 20 dollars stuffed inside an old shirt that was stuck under the couch for god-knows-how-long, so of course the first thing they did was get themselves a big pizza and there was even enough left over for two bottles of cheap whiskey. One was obviously drunk immediately, but the other was left for the evening poker game with old Miss Sing from 1B and that pretty girl from apartment 4C Davis had his eye on ever since she moved there last month. If everything went according to plan, Tom will have to spend the night on Miss Sing's couch again. He honestly didn't mind. Miss Sing's couch was more comfortable than Davis's anyway.<br/><br/>Cigarette still in hand, he stepped a bit closer to the light. He still wasn't completely used to the fact that he could now smoke out in the open without having to look over his shoulder all the time, trying to hide the vapor and ready to throw away the offending object at every second.<br/><br/>"How long has it been?" she asked, awkwardly polite for the situation. "10 years?"<br/><br/>"12."<br/><br/>Last time he saw her they had sex for the first time, in the old observatory at Bullworth, just a day after his seventeenth birthday and he promised to take her to the prom. The next day he was arrested for criminal trespassing when he broke into Mr. Hattrick's house trying to hide from the government agents he thought were following him. <em>Kid is just trying to get himself out of trouble </em> they said back then as he told his reasons. When charges were dropped 10 months later and he finally got out of jail the world had already moved on. His parents never even bothered to post bail.<br/><br/>"Long time," she agreed.<br/><br/>Awkwardness in the air was downright suffocating. What are you even supposed to say to your high school love after more than ten years of unfinished business?<br/>Thankfully Beatrice soon broke the silence. That girl could never stay quiet for long.<br/><br/>"I'd ask you what you were doing all this time, but, uh, well, I heard from Vendome that, um, you were… You know."<br/><br/>She suddenly stopped. Tom chuckled a bit. Why do most people find this topic so uncomfortable? As if they're trying to pretend it doesn't exist. <em> Most likely they are. </em><br/><br/>"Locked up? Yeah, just got out two weeks ago." <em> Second stint. 12 years. Made parole after 9 and a half. </em> Gord was observing the trial with his father, probably waiting for their client's turn. Of course the little snitch told everyone.<br/>"Don't worry, I'm taking my meds now." <em> Paranoid schizophrenia. </em> Took him almost killing his bunkie over a cup of coffee and knocking out a C.O.'s tooth for somebody to care enough to notice. Why he didn't catch a street charge that day was still a mystery.<br/><br/>He braced himself for the followup questions that usually followed. <em> Why. What did you do. How they'd get you. </em> That was something that was only ever discussed with fellow lost souls. Fortunately they never came.<br/><br/>"So, bad day?"<br/><br/>Beatrice nodded. As unusual as the situation was, she was glad to meet a friendly face, even if that face had a black eye and "Forgive me" tattooed over another. She didn't dare to ask about any of them.<br/><br/>"I lost my wallet, so I'm kind of stuck here. Not exactly ideal."<br/><br/>She tried to sound as casual as possible. For a second she thought about complaining over her date but decided against it. That was not something you tell you high school fling when you meet them after a decade, even if they're the only one in your life that is likely to listen.<br/><br/>Tom flicked away the cigarette and scratched his head. "I'd offer to call you a cab, but, uh, I don't have a phone and I have exactly two bucks left right now." He paused for a second. "I could walk you home though. My shift's over anyway." He nodded towards the restaurant Beatrice just came from.<br/><br/>"That would be nice."<br/><br/><em> Beatrice Trudeau, what on earth are you doing? You know that's a bad idea! </em> She decided to ignore those thoughts. <em> It's not like I have any other option, </em> she told herself, knowing full well she had.<br/><br/>They wordlessly started walking down the street, her still clutching the purse tight to her chest, he hands in pockets of jeans that were clearly at least five sizes too big. The wind picked up and she started to shiver with only a flimsy chiffon scarf over a strapless cocktail dress shielding her from the cold. Even though it was late October, it was unusually warm and she didn't bother to bring a jacket. <em> It's not like she expected to be walking home so late. </em><br/><br/>Tom took off his hoodie without a word and placed it around her shoulders. She gladly put it on and wrapped it tightly around her shivering body. It smelled of cigarettes and beer. <em> Just like back then. </em> She smiled in thanks and glanced back at him. From under an old, washed-out T-shirt she caught sight of a tattooed arm, full of mesmerizing patterns. As she was trying to discern the designs in the darkness barely illuminated by a few bar signs and an odd streetlight, he must have noticed her staring. He clumsily tried to cover them up, but that revealed even more tattoos on the other hand. For a second they locked eyes, awkwardly looking away the next moment. <em> Dammit, Beatrice, you're an almost thirty-year-old woman acting like a high school girl! </em> But she would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy it.<br/><br/>She felt a hand faintly brush against hers, as if by accident, yet quite obviously on purpose. Responding to the invitation, she took his hand into hers and they locked them tightly. Her heart was suddenly beating faster and the previously awkward silence became a comfortable one. <em> That's how it was with Tom. </em> Unless she got him talking about his conspiracies he liked to keep quiet and enjoy the moment. Looking down she only then curiously noticed he wasn't wearing any shoes.<br/><br/>It took them more than an hour to reach Beatrice's apartment and luckily the rain never developed past a light drizzle. By that point she was walking with a visible limp, clearly in pain from the heels she was wearing. He told her to take them off, but she refused, so he ended up practically carrying her for the last ten minutes. Still, she looked kind of beautiful, with her glasses all fogged up, clearly-not-waterproof mascara running down her face and wet hair falling out of the previously tight bun, the old second-hand hoodie he was given on release completely covering up her thin frame. She sat down on the stairs in front of the building and finally took off the leather pumps she stupidly decided to wear with a heavy sigh. Tom sat beside her, rolling his eyes.<br/><br/>"Told ya you should have taken those fucking shoes off."<br/><br/>She looked back at him angrily. "What if I stepped on a piece of glass and cut myself? Or a rusty nail? Or… Or… or something?"<br/><br/>"And that's somehow worse than that?" he pointed down at her feet. He was right, but she wasn't ready to admit that. <em> Not out loud anyway. </em><br/><br/>She grumbled. "What's with you and all that shoe hate? I never got it. They're just... shoes."<br/><br/>He just shrugged. They both quietly stared in front of them for a minute in uncomfortable silence. The rain was picking up and Beatrice mentally noted they'll probably get soaked soon if they don't find a cover. She was about to say something, maybe suggesting they go inside, when Tom suddenly grabbed her and pulled her into a kiss.<br/><br/>For a second the world stood still. She kissed him back, feeling the taste of cigarette smoke and cheap booze. <em> Just like back then. </em> She should have been disgusted, and if it was any other man she most definitely would be, but this time it was somehow different. Maybe it was nostalgia, maybe old infatuation she never forgot, maybe just sheer desperation to feel loved, <em> to feel desired, </em> but she didn't care. He kissed her hungrily, with a passion of a man who hasn't touched a woman in a decade – <em> which he most likely was, </em> she reminded herself - and she felt his teeth bump against hers. <em> Still a bad kisser. </em> She didn't mind. One of his hands wandered down towards her bottom, the other under the hoodie, clumsily searching for the dress's zipper.<br/><br/>"We're still outside <em> you idiot, </em> " she said as she pulled away laughing. "Right." He started laughing too, pulling her back into his embrace. It was now raining with full force, but neither cared at that point. <em>So many years lost. Don't waste them again. </em><br/><br/>"You could come upstairs, you know," she suggested. <em> You're not supposed to do that! You're not some cheap whore, Beatrice Trudeau! You're an educated woman with a doctorate and… and… </em> at that point, she lost her train of thought. Suddenly the thought of sleeping in an empty bed scared her.<br/><br/>"Can't."<br/><br/><em> Of course. Why was she so stupid to think he'd like to. Even a washed-up con doesn't want her. </em><br/><br/>"Would love to, but can't. Curfew." He pulled up a pant leg, revealing an ankle monitor. "Speaking of..." he looked at his watch, frowning. "Gotta run!"<br/><br/>He pulled her close into one more kiss, then stood up and ran into the fog before she could even properly react. He only stopped for a second, to look back at her one last time. "See ya later, doc!" were his final words, echoing through the empty streets.<br/><br/>"Wait! You forgot your… hoodie…." The last words were barely murmured. Slowly she walked inside, barely making it upstairs. She drew herself a nice, warm bath and carefully took off the wet clothes. For a minute she debated what she's supposed to do with a ratty old hoodie she normally wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole, but ultimately decided to put it in the wash with the rest of her things. On the off chance, she'll meet Tom again. <em> I'd like that, </em> she thought as she slowly sunk into the warm water. <em> I'd like that. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  
</p><p class="western">
  <em>I'm better at drawing than writing, sorry -.-</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I was always kind of interested what the character's lives would look like when they grow up, especially the side characters. So I did some character-building exercises with some students, just to see what would happen. I don't know where exactly I first heard about this particular ship, but it just... made sense, I guess? Combine the two and yeah, that's the unfortunate result XD</p></blockquote></div></div>
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